


a girl, a mongoose, and a curse

by etcetc



Series: a girl, a mongoose, and a curse [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: (that's at the end), Adventure-ish, Alternate Universe, Curses, Enemies to Friends, F/F, Female/Female Relationship, Gen, Magic, Short Story, Witches, animal companion, kind of? Nadia comes into the story late, lowkey lesbians, lowkey threat of death, the companion is a mongoose, vaguely fantasy setting, yellow mongoose actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9780812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etcetc/pseuds/etcetc
Summary: Reagan Winslow, a twenty-three year old adventurer operating on the wrong side of the law, has finally overstepped her bounds. She's trespassed on the sacred grounds of a mysterious coven, and the witches have cursed her pet mongoose and companion, Wilson, as a result. If she can't find the solution, he'll die in a week's time. With the help of a few friends, she can figure it out, right?





	

Her stubbornness would be her downfall – that was what they said. And, well, it was true. In a sense, at least. Reagan had really thought it was a bluff. She’d truly believed that everything would turn out fine, that she would rise in the face of adversity just as she had in every adventure before, that it would all be exactly the same and be okay. It wasn’t.  
  
    “Wilson!” she cried, darting forward from behind her cover. It was dangerous, yes, projectiles hurtling through the air around her, but it was a risk that had to be taken. They’d _cursed him_. The witches had the audacity to _curse_ Wilson, of all the things they could have done, and Reagan would not allow it. She tucked and rolled behind another rock, snatching the mongoose out his hiding spot. “Are you okay?” she whispered, breath catching in her throat as she inspected him. On the surface, Wilson seemed fine, his dappled fur unbroken and only covered in a fine layer of dust and dirt from the grounds of the ruins. He was fine. That was that. But something wasn’t sitting right, something was nagging insistently at Reagan, a sixth sense for danger. She’d always had that.  
  
    It took only a moment to brace herself, and then Reagan sprung up from behind the rock, aiming a defiant glare at the witch nearest her. There were three in the vicinity – that she knew of – and it didn’t take a genius to know that she couldn’t take them, not that she’d even want to. “What did you do?” Reagan demanded. Her glare intensified, and she may have imagined it, but the witch seemed concerned, her green-eyed gaze faltering. That was a good sign.  
  
    “We told you exactly what consequences you would suffer for intruding upon our hallowed ground,” one of them spoke up from somewhere above her. Reagan craned her neck to see the speaker, to no avail.  
  
    "No, you didn't!" Reagan shouted back.  
  
    “Your little friend is doomed,” another said, her voice sing-song with mockery.  
  
    “It can be fixed, but for a price.” Another speaker; Reagan was getting whiplash trying to keep up, and seriously spooked by the odd synchronicity.  
  
    “Find the cure and he’s free, or else he dies!” one of them laughed.  
  
    “And you’ve only a week to fix it, so… best of luck.” She could have imagined it, but the well-wishing almost seemed genuine. What a thought _that_ was.  
  
    As soon as the journey had started, it was over. Just like that. A click of someone’s fingers and Reagan was alone with Wilson in the clearing. “I, uh, don’t suppose you know what the cure is?” she asked. No response came. With a scowl, Reagan picked herself up and tucked Wilson back into her coat pocket where he snuggled in without a second thought. “Of course you aren’t worried. No reason to be concerned that you might die in a week,” Reagan murmured. She tucked her auburn hair back behind her ears and, with only a lingering glance at the mystic ruins, began the long trek back to her car.  
  
  
  
Adventuring hadn’t come easy to Reagan at first. She’d been torn between her cozy life at home with Wilson and the call of the wild, but eventually decided that home could wait. Wilson was easily hidden in travel bags – he was a bit of a runt, even for a yellow mongoose, and boy were those small already.  
  
    It hadn’t been difficult to compromise, at least. What was difficult was the whole _safety_ thing. There was that time that she’d nearly sent them barreling off a cliff together, or the _other_ time where a temple had caved in right above their heads – the two had been trapped for three days before she dug them out – and now the most recent incident in which Wilson was cursed and would almost certainly be dead within the week. Or so they said – if Reagan had any say in it, any at all (and she did), the little mongoose would be just fine.  
  
    She was still thinking about the predicament in the bathtub that night. Wilson was fast asleep in the other room, curled up in a tight ( _fragile_ , Reagan thought) ball on a pillow, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Those were terribly grim. “I don’t have any idea how – where to start,” she found herself musing out loud. A moment passed and she sunk further into the water, bubbles covering her chin in a mock beard. If the circumstances were different, she might laugh about it, shape her hair into a more masculine ‘do and examine herself in the mirror. But they weren’t, so she didn’t. She’d used to do this for fun as a child, but now it was ritual and rarely half as fun. Mostly it was just for cleansing her wounds. Adventuring wasn’t without its risks, after all, and a few cuts and bruises were now the least of them.  
  
    “Guess I’m gonna have to start studying up on this curse tomorrow.” She groaned, then got out of the tub. A good night’s sleep would make everything better, probably. Either that or it would waste time that she couldn’t afford to spare. Reagan certainly hoped it was the former.  
  
  
  
Reagan didn’t realize how tired she had been until the next morning, when slanted rays of sunlight woke her. It was a sharp light, the glaring brightness startling her at first. A quick glance to her nightstand confirmed that she had overslept. It was already afternoon, 12:37, and she was late. Late for many things, actually. Not only was she missing out on her work – the exciting role of barista at a local coffee stand – but she had missed the deadline for her research grants. She had an in already with some… shadier types who helped to fund her operations, but the official money helped too. When this all clicked together, she rolled over and screamed into her pillow, startling Wilson from his slumber beside her. It was going to be a rough morning.  
  
    It was only a matter of minutes before she was out the door, a protein shake in one hand and Wilson in the pocket of her oversized blue sweatshirt. Her clothing was in tatters, but Reagan didn’t much care about that. Her priorities were tracking the curse and saving Wilson – plus her own comfort, of course.  
  
    The library was close, and she thought about going there – but that wasn’t where she headed. She needed _real_ info to figure all this out, to get to the bottom of what was going on. And to get that? Well, it was doubtful that she would get that through a… legitimate source. “What say you, Wilson?” she asked as she slid into the driver’s seat of her beat-up car. The radio blared old rock hits, and Reagan hummed along. Wilson chirruped his approval – or at least that’s how Reagan interpreted it. The way she saw it, he shared her taste in music. “Sounds like a plan then. Off to see Dimitri we go.”  
  
   She’d known him for a long time, vexing as he was, and only came to him on occasions like these: when she didn’t have the funds or a legal way out. It was connections that she needed, and connections he had; he’d helped her out of several binds in the past. Reagan had told herself in the past – more than once, actually – that she wouldn’t ever go back to him. She was going on the straight and narrow, making an effort to separate herself from the shadier parts of her work. But for Wilson, it was worth it.  
  
    He lived out of town, maybe a twenty minute drive from Reagan’s apartment, camped out in a condemned building. “It’s fine,” he’d said in the past with a sly grin, “Suits my needs pretty well anyway. No need to be prissy ‘bout it.” Reagan scowled just thinking about him, but she got out of the car and put on her best I’m-perfectly-pleasant expression.  
  
    It was only a second after she knocked on the battered door that Dimitri flung it open, grinning from ear to ear. “Reagan!” he shouted. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again! C’mon, get in here. Whaddaya need?”  
  
    She grimaced but entered the room anyway, the dull lighting creating an oppressive atmosphere. “I need some intel, figured you might be able to point me in th—hey, what’s that smell?” Reagan turned to face the informant, noting the definite shift in his expression. He seemed reluctant to answer. “Hm?” she pressed, inching closer.  
  
    “Nothing! It’s nothing. So, info, right?”  
  
    “Not until you tell me what you’ve got going on here. You aren’t – _no_. Really?” The gaze she levelled at him was downright terrifying.  
  
    “Look, it’s just one more time, okay? Got a buyer who requested it.”  
  
    Reagan crossed her arms, narrowing her hazel eyes. “You said you wouldn’t mess with this elixir stuff anymore. I know that obeying the law isn’t really your thing, but this is serious business.” She sighed, resignation painting her features. “This isn’t gonna get through to you, I can tell. Look, I was out at this place yesterday—“  
  
    “How specific,” Dimitri murmured, rolling his eyes.  
  
    “—and there was this group of witches who cursed me. Well, not me, it was actually Wilson, but it _might as well_ be me. I don’t know, look, they didn’t give me much information to go on and in a week it’ll take effect. Wait, no. Six days. Shoot, already wasted one. The point being that I need to figure out how to reverse this thing – they said there’s a cure, something that comes at a price. I think it might be an artifact that I need to find.”  
  
    A few moments passed in silence as Dimitri mulled over the information, Reagan shifting her weight – impatience or discomfort, she couldn’t say why. It was some kind of tick. “Okay. That’s, uh, a lot to take in, y’know? I’m gonna need to know exactly where you were to really help.”  
  
    “Do you have a map?”  
  
    He nodded, shuffling through some files on a nearby table before pulling out a yellowed scroll and unfurling it. “Right here. Some of the territory names are outdated, yeah, but it should work.”  
  
    “It was about a six hour drive away… a few hours of hiking to get to the ruins… I’d say somewhere around this area here, near Hythia.” She shrugged when he gave her a questioning glance. “It wasn’t where I was planning on going, okay? I don’t have specifics. I was gonna go _here_ ,” she said, pointing to another spot on the map – circled, somewhere he’d been, probably, “but I got sidetracked on the hike in.”  
  
    “You do realize that’s like, a total no-no zone?”  
  
    Another shrug. “Like I said, I got sidetracked.”  
  
    “In one of the worst possible places! That’s a hella dangerous place. And you said it was ruins?” He scowled when she nodded her confirmation. “Oh my god. You’ve gotta be kidding. Uh, I’ve got some bad news for you. Maybe you’d… uh… wanna sit down for this?”  
  
    Reagan glanced towards the couch but made no move to sit; the surface was covered in what she assumed was a year’s worth of dust and smelled of mothballs. “I’ll pass, thanks. Get on with it.”  
  
    “Oh-okay. Sure. Yeah. So that place you ended up in… uh… well, it’s sort of the reason that there’s still stuff left to raid in the place you were planning on going. See this marking on the map?” Dimitri gestured to the circle around the location, and it was then that Reagan noticed how tired he looked, the dark circles under his gray eyes suddenly more pronounced than usual. “That means it’s somewhere I’m never gonna _ever_ go. It’s bad news. Partially ‘cause of its proximity to the ruins you were at. And the place you were going is under control of the same coven that it sounds like you encountered. They’re… well, notorious. That’s one word for it. They run on black magic and all that.” He shook his head, running a hand through his black curls. Chances were he hadn’t washed his hair in a few days. Reagan almost pitied him, thinking about the stress he was under. “I’ve heard stories about other people who run into ‘em, lots of stuff similar to what you’ve got going on right now. Maybe someone else is around that you could contact. I’ll try to point you in the right direction, I guess, just… just stay safe, okay? Chances are – and this is just, y’know, hearsay – you’ll have to go back to the ruins – or that other temple, god forbid – to find the counter-curse whatever.”  
  
    The silence that settled over the room was stifling. “So… uh… yeah. Lemme check the files, see if I can find a name for you, okay?” Dimitri added once it was clear that Reagan had nothing to say. He left the room almost too quickly.  
  
    “Well. Well, Wilson, not sure how we’re gonna get out of this one,” she muttered, petting the mongoose through her pocket, “but we’ll do it. Okay? I’ll figure it out. Gotta… gotta clear my mind first, though.” The only thing that she could think of was that she’d messed up, and monumentally this time. That there might not be a feasible way out. She shook her head – that was no way to think. So she settled down cross-legged on the ground, focusing on her breathing and where Wilson was nestled in against her thigh. The crystal necklace – smoky quartz, pretty but more of a connective piece – against her throat was a comforting weight, a reminder of her position in nature. Wilson shifted in her lap, rubbing his head against the palm of her right hand insistently. Reagan couldn’t help but smile and stroke his fur. A handful of minutes passed before she had regathered her thoughts and was ready to plan.  
  
    “You, uh, you good?” Dimitri asked as he slunk back into the room. The sight of Reagan cross-legged and quiet in the middle of his cluttered apartment floor was almost unnerving. Odd, certainly.  
  
    She opened one eye to gaze at him before a grin cracked her solemn expression. “Better than ever,” Reagan said, and that was that.  
  
  
  
Two hours later she was out of the house with a name and a list of contacts who could help. “I mean, I want to help you – really, I do – but it’s dangerous. Hella bad news,” Dimitri had said, ushering her out the door. “I hope Wilson makes it. Seriously.” And the look in his eyes had been so genuine and afraid for her that Reagan was, if possible, even more determined to find the solution. Sure, Dimitri had been a scumbag in the past, and he was a tie to a world that Reagan didn’t really want to be part of, but he was a good guy. For the most part.  
  
    Those parting words in mind, she set off to the home of one Artemesia Hawkins. Not a survivor of the curse, but a next of kin, and a place to start. Her place was within the city limits – only minutes away from Reagan’s home, and a welcome departure from Dimitri’s shack of a residence. It was a hassle to park, but locating the place was easy enough and it was only a matter of minutes after leaving Dimitri’s that she was on the doorstep. And seconds later, the door swung open.  
  
    “Hi, I’m Reagan Winslow—”  
  
    “How did you get this address?”  
  
    Reagan blinked and stepped back, nearly tripping backwards off the porch and into the onslaught of rain. “I, uh, got it from a friend – I’m here in regards to a…” she trailed off, taking in the woman’s flustered appearance. She was uncoordinated, hair half up, half curled, different colors of nail polish – all chipped – adorning her short nails. _This must be Artemesia_ , Reagan thought, regaining her composure. “See, uh, I’ve been told you have information on a certain curse?”  
  
    “Oh. That. Yeah, I know a few things.” She bit her lower lip, splitting the skin open. Reagan guessed that was a recurring problem for her. With a sigh of resignation, Artemesia stepped back into the dimly lit entryway. “Come on in.”  
  
    Reagan offered a smile in response, stepping forward – then she stopped suddenly. “First, I gotta ask – you okay with animals?” Wilson popped out of her pocket with a small chirp, prompting Artemesia to laugh. “Good job,” she murmured, scratching the mongoose’s head as she followed Artemesia into her sitting room.  
  
    “I’m guessing that you mean the lethal one, yeah?” the woman asked once they were seated. “That’s the only curse that I know anything about. It started in…” she tapped one slender finger against the glass top of the coffee table, “Marwen, I think.”  
  
    “Near Hythia,” Reagan prompted.  
  
    “Exactly!” Her mismatched eyes lit up at that, though she still seemed flustered and off-put by Reagan’s sudden intrusion. “My brother ventured there last year in the spring. There’s some sort of structure there – a palace, something like that. Exactly the kind of place he would go. It’s still untouched, somehow, and he thought he’d be the first to recover the artifacts there.”  
  
    “So he was an adventurer? An archaeologist, I take it?”  
  
    “Yeah. He was. I don’t know exactly what happened there, but when he came back he was… I don’t know how to explain it. Terrified, I guess. I hadn’t seen him in a while, but he came over, wouldn’t stop talking about being cursed.” Artemesia paused, and Reagan took the opportunity to interject.  
  
    “I need to know about the curse. I’ve been told that he found out how to reverse it – is that true?” She leaned forward, expectant, Wilson mimicking the movement. Her eyes were wide with interest.  
  
    Artemesia blinked, processing. “It’s an artifact that reverses it, I think. It would be in his notes – um, I think I’ve got those somewhere in the house. I can give them to you before you leave, I’ve no use for them. All I know off the top of my head is that it’s somewhere in the temple itself. My brother… David couldn’t get back in time, he found out too late, otherwise he’d be here himself to tell you.” The smile she offered was bittersweet. “I’ll go get those notes. I have afternoon plans, so…”  
  
    “Of course,” Reagan replied. Five minutes later she was back in her car, humming along to an old tune as she drove back home with the notebook in the passenger seat. It was a short distance, but felt like one of the longest trips of her life.  
  
  
  
By the time she was home – even thought it was only a few minutes, really – the streets were flooded with rainwater. She’d barely made it back into her crowded apartment and was already soaking wet, clothes clinging to her drenched skin. Reagan reached into her pocket, lifting Wilson out. “You’re still dry, huh? Must be nice,” she laughed. It felt strange, laughing when something so delicate was at risk, but it was also comforting.  
  
    “Okay. Down to business, right?” Wilson rubbed his head against the palm of her hand in response. “We’ve gotta do our research. See what we’re up against. Dimitri said something about black magic,” she murmured, opening up her laptop. She waited as it booted up, tapping her fingers against the table and scowling.  
  
    Her impatience was overwhelming though, and Reagan stood up within seconds to brew a pot of coffee, even though she knew the caffeine would keep her up through the night. Waiting for coffee to brew was at least better than watching her laptop’s loading screen. She needed a new one, if she were being perfectly honest with herself, but most of her money went into adventuring and providing for herself and Wilson. At the moment, she couldn’t quite spare the expense. When the coffee had brewed, she poured some into a mug, adding an excessive amount of toffee-flavored creamer. She filled a small bowl with water for Wilson, then returned to the table.  
  
    The laptop was on and ready to go, much to her relief. It was time to get down to business, and there was much business to be done.  
  
    Six mugs of coffee – just about the whole pot, actually – and a handful of hours later, Reagan was about to pass out over her keyboard. Pages of scrawled notes littered the small table, coffee rings stained into the wood. Wilson was fast asleep against her dormant right arm, her only movements being notetaking with her left hand. By the time Reagan could bring herself to glance at the clock, partially satisfied with her efforts for the night, it was 1:52. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she moaned, and Wilson stirred beside her. She stilled, and his breathing evened out again, asleep once more.  
  
    Even though she was dead tired and wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch and drift off for the night, she rose from her seat, cradling Wilson in the crook of her elbow, and made her way to the bedroom. Almost as soon as she’d brushed her teeth, she was tucked into bed – only taking a moment to kiss Wilson on the nose and wish him a good night before falling asleep.  
  
  
  
The new day found Reagan fresh-faced and rearing to go at the next opportunity that would present itself. This was all well and good – or would have been, had the weather cooperated. Just about the entire city was flooded, her car probably waterlogged. “That’s what you get for not parking in an approved spot,” Dimitri would have said, but then again, he would have done the same. Reagan scowled at the thought. Everything about the day was making her scowl even more, if it was even possible at that point.  
  
    _Nah, you just gotta stay calm, level-headed. Be cool and collected, you know? Like… I dunno, a James Bond type or something. Maybe Indiana Jones_ , she found herself thinking as she prepared breakfast – a strawberry-banana smoothie for herself and a bowl of eggs, nuts, and berries for her mongoose companion. He seemed happy enough with it. _I should be happy, too_ , Reagan thought.  
  
    The day passed by second by ticking second, about as enjoyable as watching paint dry. She’d tried playing card games at first, mostly solitaire considering that Wilson couldn’t play with her. Then there were those few attempted (and failed) hours of reading. Her finicky focus made it hard to do anything for longer than thirty seconds. She settled for half-watching daytime television – mostly interrupted by local weather updates, naturally – and half-focusing on her twitter feed, which couldn’t refresh fast enough. Hours passed like this. She’d done all the research she needed, was entirely ready to leave, and the weather was condemning Wilson. The _weather_ , of all things!  
  
    “Agh, this is so dumb!” she shouted after the seventeenth weather update, tossing the television remote to the opposite side of the room. “That’s it, Wilson. Grab your things, we’re out, rain or shine. Well, rain. Lots of rain. Lots and lots of rain,” she muttered. “You know what? We’re getting through it! A little bit of water never hurt anyone.”  
  
    She found Wilson still asleep on the couch minutes after she’d donned her thickest pair of rain boots and heavy-duty beige coat – perfect for adventuring, actually, it was standard gear. Reagan rolled her eyes, scooping up the snoring mongoose and slinging her gear bag over her shoulder. It was going to be a bit of a trek to any sort of public transportation, so she’d best get going as soon as she could. There wasn’t any time for second-guessing herself, either, considering how many hours she’d just wasted. No, she was determined, both to save her friend and to do what none of her fellow explorers had done before. Nothing would stop her.  
  
    Nothing, that was, except for the five inches of water pooled on the ground which made getting anywhere ridiculously difficult.  
  
    “No choice but to embrace it, huh?” Reagan spoke, tilting her face up into the downpour. It was refreshing to be outside again, to be reunited with the world around her. Spending time holed up inside always made her stir-crazy, but today especially. She practically leaped down the stairwell, splashing through the puddle at the base and bolting across the street. Only the limits of what was physically possible could contain her now, and she was intent on getting back into the temple and saving Wilson.  
  
    It was funny, she thought, that he would be the one at risk. He’d always seemed so much tougher than her. Sure, Wilson was small, just about a foot long and weighing not even two pounds, but he was tough with his sharp little claws. Reagan had always assumed that he would outlive her. Now that it was a possibility that that wouldn’t be the case, she knew she had to step up – and so she did.  
  
    Reagan had never been much of a distance runner at all. She’d taken a brief foray into the world of cross-country running back during her early years of education (and that had been years ago, at least seven or eight), but that hadn’t lasted long at all. Even so, she gave it her all on the way to the bus station, panting and out of breath when she arrived.  
  
    _CLOSED_ , a lit-up sign read in towering letters.  
  
    She gritted her teeth and paced forward to the ticket booth, where an attendant was still on duty. “Excuse me,” Reagan started, giving her politest smile, “but is there any way that I could get to Hythia today? Or maybe Marwen, if possible?”  
  
    “Kid, look at the sign. We’re closed. No one’s getting anywhere today,” the attendant replied.  
  
    “Well, um…” She looked at the woman’s nametag, still smiling as sweetly as she could despite her budding irritation. ‘Kid’? Really? She was twenty-two! “Denise, do you think you could point me in the right direction?”  
  
    The woman behind the glass sighed, closing the magazine in her lap. “I’d like to help you, but this is the worst weather we’ve had in at least… well, twenty-five years, I’d say. The roads are totally shut down. I’d be at home if I weren’t stranded,” she offered. “There might be a way out of the region if you go to the right place, but the official one ain’t it.”  
  
    “Gotcha,” Reagan answered. She thanked the woman for her time and turned around, heading back towards her apartment. An underground way – that was what the woman had meant. Maybe an illegal transport ring, something completely under the radar. Luckily, though she hated herself for it, Reagan knew just the place to go, and it was only a handful of blocks away. She was close already.  
  
    She sprinted through the pouring rain to the abandoned station, doing her best to ignore the way her drenched clothes clung to her skin, the rub of fabric chafing her arms and legs. Such trivial matters couldn’t get to her, not with Wilson’s life in the balance. But something about the rain and the wind and the running was exhilarating, making her heart race with excitement and not just exertion. Reagan couldn’t help but laugh, the sound breathy and light against the pounding of raindrops on pavement. “Feels good to be… alive, doesn’t it, Wilson?” she panted as she rounded the final corner. The handwritten sign condemning the building was in view, barely attached to the stone exterior. Seeing this, she slowed down. The grin didn’t leave her face until she entered the building.  
  
    It was all hustle and bustle inside despite the sordid weather. _Crime never sleeps,_ Reagan thought, then scowled. She was part of the problem, and she knew it. But that wouldn’t stop her. Nothing would stop her, not when she was so close to achieving her goal.  
  
    The transit stand was directly to her right, and Reagan stalked over to the counter, trying to put on an intimidating mask. Let them know you’re desperate and they’ll milk you for all you’re worth – she’d learned that the hard way. “I need to get to Marwen,” she announced. The shopkeeper only chuckled, not even turning to face her.  
  
    “Good luck with that. Have you looked outside? No transportation running today, sweetheart.”  
  
    “The weather is exactly why I’m here. Like I said – I need to get to Marwen, preferably soon. Are you sure there’s nothing that can be done?”  
  
    He turned to face her, scanning her features. It made Reagan uncomfortable, but she refused to waver, to show any sign of weakness. “And I said that there’s no transport running today.”  
  
    “Not anything legal,” Reagan muttered. “Fine. I’ll take my business elsewhere, then.” She turned to stalk back in the direction she’d come – not just walk, but stalk, really assert herself – when he interrupted her.  
  
    “Alright, fine, you got it. There’s a transport chamber over there. Hasn’t been running too well lately, so I wasn’t gonna say anything, but if you really wanna risk it I’ll let you. You gotta pay, though.” He gestured to a sign outlining the rates, and Reagan tossed a handful of coins and crumpled bills onto the counter. “Just step in and highlight your destination, should work.”  
  
    Reagan raised an eyebrow, absentmindedly running a hand through her short hair. “Should? How safe is this, exactly?”  
  
    “Should be safe enough.”  
  
    “Okay, yeah, you just said ‘should’ again. I’m not so sure this is such a good idea,” she shot back, folding her arms across her chest. The shopkeeper only shrugged in response. Reagan mulled over her options for a moment, deciding that there wasn’t any other option. This was it, and, according to her calculations, it was worth it, safe or not. Besides, Dimitri should be able to fix up any mishap-related injuries, once she got back. It meant going back underground, but it would be all right. “Fine, I’ll do it. Have a nice day,” Reagan said, then saluted the man farewell and paced over to the chamber.  
  
    It was several feet taller than Reagan but not much wider, and she found herself anxious when she stepped inside and closed the door. The display immediately lit up, a map flashing onto the screen. _Select your destination_ , the screen read. “Okay, cool. I can do this,” she whispered to herself, zooming in on the region she needed. Wilson leapt out of her pocket and onto the control console, nudging her hand in support. Then she saw it. A large red X over her desired location. “Well that’s just… typical.” Reagan sighed, panning out the map and looking for other options. There was one spot – only one – within two miles of the temple. It was her in, her only option, and Reagan would be damned if she wasn’t taking it. “Alright,” she said, grinning. “This is it, Wilson. We’re gonna do it.” She circled the destination, slammed her palm down on the GO button, and they were gone.  
  
    Across the hallway, the shopkeeper watched with subdued interest as the chamber lit up and then went dark again. If anything, he was surprised she’d even stepped foot into that death trap.  
  
  
  
The sensation of vanishing and then rematerializing would never sit well with Reagan. Back in her less savory days, she’d traveled this way frequently. It was one of many things she wouldn’t miss about functioning on a less legal level. As soon as her feet hit the forest floor, she keeled over, emptying her stomach. Wilson whimpered at her side, rubbing his face against her leg. “Don’t worry,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m fine.” The nausea that followed using transport chambers was ridiculous. It was no wonder, really, that they’d been banned. Safety, too – it was a wonder that Reagan had made it through in one piece.  
  
    “Let’s get going,” Reagan said once she felt stable on her feet again. The rain was still coming down in thick sheets, but not as badly as in the city. It ran in rivulets across the ground, though it thankfully wasn’t as muddy as Reagan had been anticipating. “It won’t be too long now, buddy,” she added, stroking Wilson’s back. “We’ll get you all fixed up, promise.”  
  
    Hiking in was smooth sailing, much to Reagan’s relief. What wasn’t straightforward was getting into the temple. It was a towering monument to the ages, the stone face elegantly ornamented with bronze patterns and murals. What was most amazing was its perfect condition. _This place has to be – what, a few thousand years old_ , Reagan thought. She hadn’t done much research on the place before embarking that first, fateful time – but that much she knew. The condition was astounding. That it was still inhabited was also astounding, not to mention intimidating as all get out. Reagan didn’t know how she would fare against black magic. There was a chance that she wouldn’t, that she and Wilson would both be condemned. That perhaps neither of them would even make it back, cursed to wander the temple halls for all eternity, never moving past the first plane of existence. She shuddered at the thought, but stepped out of the forest cover nonetheless. Now wasn’t the time to worry about possibilities.  
  
    As was expected, the main entrance was sealed tight with heavy-duty locks; it was ancient craftsmanship, virtually impenetrable. “Okay, buddy, we gotta find another way in,” she whispered to Wilson. He chirped from her pocket.  
  
    Circling the perimeter of the temple was a slow process. The temple was a vast space of worship. As she walked, hugging the wall tight to avoid being seen, Reagan considered how long it must have taken to build the place. _Well, less than I’m probably thinking, if they’ve got magic._ The thought made her frown. It was entirely possible that she wouldn’t even be able to get in, to make it past square one, but again – there wasn’t time to consider the what if scenarios.  
  
    That fear was put aside in moments, though, when she found a wide window pane. Reagan grinned, peering through to the inside. The hallway past the window was deserted, and she could hear nothing from within. This was her chance, and Reagan knew it. She pulled a cloth from her backpack, wrapping her arm in it before punching through the glass. Her fist stung, but the glass broke easily and she clambered through the window, hissing when her skin was scraped by glass shards. But that was that, and she was in, she was that much closer to being out. Never mind if she was a bit bloodied, she was in!  
  
    Her excitement dissipated when an alarm rang through the hall. Reagan shouldn’t have been surprised about the alarm, and, well, she wasn’t. She just hadn’t expected it; she’d been too caught up in her recent string of good fortune and the fact that things were finally going right for once in the week. It was astounding and exhilarating and she hadn’t thought that a place as old as the temple would have anything even remotely modern in the way of security – well, wasn’t that what magic was for?  
  
    Even through the shock, she acted quickly. There was a door nearby. Reagan pressed her ear up against it, brushing her hair away so she could listen. It was quiet. Without any hesitation – or self-preservation – she darted through the door ( _I’m lucky it was unlocked,_ she thought) and sealed herself into the room.  
  
    It appeared to be some sort of study, maybe an office. Reagan didn’t know, nor did she care. Her sole focus was on finding out the artifact’s whereabouts, so she set to rifling through the papers on the desk. This went well for a minute or so—  
  
    Then the door swung open, slamming into the wall with excessive force. Reagan’s body went rigid. She looked up and swore. Standing in the doorframe was an all too familiar woman – one of the witches who had cursed Wilson – and she didn’t appear all too pleased. They made eye contact for a soul-shattering handful of moments, just long enough for Reagan to have formulated a makeshift plan, and then the witch turned. That was it. Reagan lunged across the desk, tangling a hand in the woman’s long ebony tresses and yanking her to the ground.  
  
    “Tell me where the cure is,” Reagan growled, shoving the witch’s face against the floor. Her captive hissed in pain. “Tell me or I’ll – I’ll…”  
  
    “You’ve got nothing, and you know it,” the witch shot back. “You’ll what, kill me? I know you won’t. And I don't want to hurt you either.”  
  
    Reagan scowled, tugging on the witch’s hair. She couldn’t help but wince at the pained noises that came in response – this kind of violence just wasn’t in her nature, not really. Stealth was much more her thing. She’d really jumped the gun this time around, though. “It’s not that I don’t have the guts,” Reagan replied, doing her best to use a polite tone. “It’s that I don’t want to stoop to your level. Although killing you probably wouldn’t be as horrible as, oh, I don’t know – killing off an innocent mongoose?”  
  
    “Oh gods, you’ve gotta be kidding. That? You’re still mad? Please don't take it personally,” she pleaded.  
  
    “Of course! Of course I’m still mad!” Reagan tightened her grip. “Wilson is my friend, you can’t just take him from me! I don’t know how you haven’t been hunted down and eliminated yet,” she added, her tone growing casual, conversational. “I did a bit of digging around, and y’know, it sounds like Wilson wouldn’t be the first death on your heads – well, he won’t die, of course, but you catch my drift. It seems to me that you’ve sentenced plenty of innocents to death in the past. If the public were to find out about this – let’s say those anti-occultist factions, too – you’d all be lynched as soon as you stepped foot out of the temple! Maybe you wouldn’t even have to leave. I mean, it wasn’t that hard for me to break it, now was it, and I’m just an amateur.” She shrugged, the action tugging on the witch’s hair.  
  
    “I don’t see what your point is,” the witch finally growled. “They were all intruders. They… uh, deserved it.”  
  
    That sent Reagan over the edge, despite the woman's clear lack of sincerity, and she allowed herself a moment of laughter. “That’s your idea of a warning shot? Death magic? Wow. No wonder you guys are so isolated. Look, no hard feelings, I’ll just go right now and let everyone know what’s going on here, okay? I won’t come back. No promises about anyone else coming over, though.”  
  
    “Ah. You’re threatening us. Not a wise decision.” There was a hint of desperation in her voice, like she was begging Reagan to stop. It bordered on concern.  
  
    “I’ve never been one for wise decisions. I wouldn’t risk being here if I was.”  
  
    The witch scoffed. “Clearly,” she said, narrowing her green eyes. Her skin was pallid, almost gray in the low lighting. It was beginning to unnerve Reagan. “But you won’t be leaving here.”  
  
    “Leaving here alive? Were you going to say alive? Ooh, spooky. I’m done with this cryptic trash,” Reagan spat. “Tell me where the cure is and I’ll be on my way, no harm done. If not, I won’t hesitate to do whatever it takes – and I mean whatever it takes, no matter what consequences I’ll face – to find it myself and take it from you.”  
  
    “That’s an awful lot of dedication for one pathetic rodent, isn’t it?”  
  
    Reagan grinned then, her smile appearing predatory in the dim room. “First off, Wilson is a mongoose – and secondly, he’s _not_ pathetic. Did you know that they’re ridiculously resistant to poison? I’ve heard that it takes something like… oh, eight times the amount of venom that a cobra typically injects into its victims to actually kill one of these little fellas.” She scooped Wilson up and out of her pocket with one hand, holding him up mere inches from the woman’s face. “And they’ve got a nasty little set of teeth. Don’t you, buddy?” she cooed. Wilson bared his sharp teeth in a mock smile. “They’re hunters, you know. I mean, sure, these guys have been known to eat just about anything, but they’re deadly. So you might want to think twice before you underestimate a little guy like Wilson… or me.”  
  
    “You’re a nerd, you know that?”  
  
    “Oh, huh. Didn’t realize that ‘nerd’ was an eighteenth century insult there. Cool.”  
  
    This time, it was the witch who rolled her eyes. “Eighteenth century? I have no clue where you’re getting that from. I’m twenty-four.”  
  
    “Y’know… I’m just thinking out loud here,” Reagan began slowly, “but the whole death-magic-on-all-trespassers thing is a bit outdated. Not to mention the creepy speaking-in-unison thing that you all did back there. Oh, or that you all live in a temple. What’s the outside supposed to think if you won’t communicate? Besides, you’d probably have less trespassers if you just… oh, I don’t know, _said something?_ ”  
  
    “You think I don’t know that? It’s the council that stops us from making outside contact! If I had it my way and weren’t stationed out there in the ruins, I wouldn’t do this to anyone! Ever!”  
  
    Reagan laughed. “Then just don’t. Why don’t you leave? You could come with me right now. Hell, I’d even let you crash at my apartment if you promised not to kill me in my sleep and took back what you said about Wilson being pathetic. I could probably help you get a normal job, too. It’s pretty sweet, out there.” She gestured to the landscape outside the window, easing up on her death-grip. The woman sat up, grumbling and massaging her scalp.  
  
    “It’s not that easy. We’re not as old-fashioned as you seem to think…”  
  
    After a moment, Reagan realized she was looking for a name. _Good_ , the adventurer thought. _We’re getting somewhere. Somewhere civil. That’s good._ “Reagan. My name’s Reagan.”  
  
    “Reagan.” She seemed to test the name, weighing it in the air. “I’m Nadia. It’s nice to meet you on marginally better terms. But what I was saying is that we’re not all hundreds of years old – but this place is. Things aren’t ‘modern’ around here. We don’t associate with outsiders, and we don’t let people go. The whole ‘unknown’ thing is sort of… our thing.”  
  
    “Good to know that the whole ‘you’re not leaving here’ bit wasn’t personal,” Reagan muttered.  
  
    “I’ll just skip ahead to the point. We’ve been using this curse for centuries – or, well, something like that. I don’t know, a _really_ long time. Any witch worth her salt knows it, not that we want to, and it’s virtually fool-proof since we keep the counter-curse here. Most people never come back once it’s stuck to them; they look for a cure in their ‘modern’ world with their ‘modern’ tools. That’s the price, I guess, that they have to come back and face us again. But there isn’t an outside cure. There never has been, and there never will be, because the antidote is just magic. That’s all it is, and that magic is here. It can’t be replicated.” Nadia sucked in a deep breath, exhaling heavily. “It’s an amulet. The Serkava Amulet. This thing’s been around for as long as the curse has been – it was developed to counteract it, but somehow we got ahold of it, and the thing’s been here in the archives ever since.”  
  
    Reagan arched an eyebrow, dozens of questions fighting to be asked first. She couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that this had been ongoing for _hundreds of years_ and no one had done anything. “How… how has no one gotten to it before?” she eventually asked.  
  
    “Plenty have tried to steal it from us. Mostly, people who survive are only allowed access to it through bargains that are in our favor. And usually – because, you know, magic – they can’t reveal much about what’s happened, or they end up joining the coven community. That’s how this is all still a mystery, centuries later. I’d be as surprised as you if I weren’t a part of this place.”  
  
    “And you can’t leave why, exactly?”  
  
    “Well…” Nadia chewed on her bottom lip, considering the answer. “I could. But I don’t know how I’d do it. They don’t make it sound too appealing out there. I grew up in here, in this community, and everything they say makes it sound like everything out there is just one massive threat.”  
  
    “Okay, not gonna lie, it kind of is. But that’s just as true about this place. I think you should do it,” Reagan pushed. “I think you should leave with me. Help me find the Ser-whatever Amulet and we’ll get out of here together. We’ll be roommates, and we can help educate people about what’s going on here. People might be less likely to make the same mistakes that I did. It sounds like that’s what you want, Nadia. I think you should do this.”  
  
    The witch’s hesitation was written across her face in the furrow of her brow and the downward shift of her eyes. “I don’t know. I’ll… I’ll have to think about that. But for now, I’ll at least help you to find the counter-curse. I owe you that much for causing you this trouble – and because you didn’t kill me, that too. Plenty of people come in here ready to kill us all. You’d be surprised.”  
  
    “I’m sure I would,” Reagan mumbled, but Nadia didn’t notice. “So,” she started, louder. “Off to the archives, then?”  
  
    Nadia shifted her purple-stained lips upward in a half-smile. “Indeed.”  
  
  
  
As it turned out, the hallway that Reagan had misguidedly broken into was only a floor down and a right turn away from the archives. They made short work of getting there, Nadia ensuring that the coast was clear after she managed to shut off the alarm. “It was just a mistake,” she said when she stumbled across one of her supervisors. “One of the kids threw a rock through a window. You know how that is.” It was a blatant lie, but somehow it worked and they were there in no time, Reagan trailing along behind her new ally.  
  
    “So this is it?” Reagan asked when they stopped at another door. It was plain, unmarked wood, identical to that of the office she’d hidden in.  
  
    “Hidden in plain sight,” Nadia replied in way of confirmation. She reached for the key ring at her belt, rolling up the long sleeves of her tunic when they got in the way. “If I’m being honest, I wouldn’t miss the dress code, among other things,” she commented as she unlocked the door. “And here you are, miss. Thousands of years’ worth of information, all conveniently stored in one room.”  
  
    Reagan whistled her appreciation, noting the way the room shifted from left to right – yellowed scrolls and textbooks sharing shelves, paintings adorning all exposed wall space. It would have been more beautiful if she weren’t in the middle of enemy territory – _but, well, you can’t win ‘em all_ , she thought. “Kind of like an occult library,” she murmured, “or the internet. A really twisted internet.” She let her fingers glide across shelf after shelf of precious artifacts as Nadia busied herself with tracking down the amulet. This was the kind of discovery that she knew would launch her career. This, right here, could be what helped her climb out of the gutter and into a professional line of work.  
  
    She considered this at length but was interrupted when Nadia tapped her on the shoulder, gingerly holding something in her outstretched hand. “This is it,” she said. “The Serkava Amulet. I think there’s… an incantation…” she said, turning it over with agonizing delicacy. “Aha, here we go. Written on the back, for convenience.” Nadia grinned, and Reagan returned the smile.  
  
    The words were carved into the back panel of the amulet behind the gleaming jade stone. Reagan couldn’t understand any of what it meant, but Nadia stumbled over the words, quickly adjusting to the verse.  
  
    “This isn’t in any traditional language I’ve seen before,” she said after speaking it several times over, “but I think I can do it – just so long as it’s a straightforward speak-and-break countering. I’m hoping it is, because if not – well, it’s going to be a lot harder to help your friend if we’re not dealing with the universally accepted confines of magic etiquette.”  
  
    “Magic etiquette?” Reagan questioned. “Like, y’know, not cursing someone for trespassing?” She offered a sheepish grin before saying, “Okay, sorry, now’s not the time. But what do you mean by etiquette?”  
  
    “Magic is a universal language, in a way. As such, there are rules. There are standards for creating these kinds of artifacts – the way it’s used, the way it’s designed, that kind of a thing. The different standards are all tailored to different effects and purposes—” She broke off the torrential explanation when she noticed Reagan’s stare. “You’re new to this… I need to simplify it more. Basically, using an incantation to activate an amulet is the standard practice. If this abides standard practice mandates, then we’re set. I’ll speak the counter-curse to activate it, we’ll have Wilson come into direct contact with the stone – jade is especially conducive to this kind of thing – and then, abra cadabra, problem solved. If that doesn’t work, this is illegal and fortified against use in another way, and we’ll need to find further instructions. Does that make sense?”  
  
    After a solemn moment, Reagan nodded. “I understand enough of it. Well, I guess all that’s left is to try it, huh?” She directed her gaze back to Nadia, who looked uncertain.  
  
    “We can try, but there’s a chance that if we’re forgetting a step – if the amulet is illegal – there could be side effects. Unpleasant ones, at that. Magic is delightful until you don’t do it right.”  
  
    “How do we know if it’s legal?”  
  
    Nadia took a steadying breath, studying the fine gold chain of the amulet as she slid it between her fingers. “We don’t. There aren’t any recorded writings about it. All we have to go on is the incantation engraved into it. I guess that – well, it could mean that it follows practice guidelines, but I don’t know. I think we just have to run it and see.”  
  
    “Okay. Sounds like enough of a plan.” Reagan withdrew Wilson from her pocket once more, nuzzling his nose for a brief second. “You ready for this, buddy?” she whispered, stroking his back. She withdrew her hand just short of his bushy tail, knowing that he didn’t like to have his tail touched. It had taken her a few weeks with him to figure that one out. It was morbid, but in the moment Reagan couldn’t stop herself from wondering if that awful adjustment period when they’d just begun to bond would be meaningless very soon. “Okay. Yeah, I think we need to just go through with this. There’s no point in putting it off.” Her voice was uncertain, but Nadia ignored that.  
  
    It was now or never, wasn’t it? This thought in mind, Nadia gently took Wilson from Reagan’s hands. She draped the amulet around his neck. Wilson shied away, but that was fine – she didn’t expect him to trust her. A few tense moments ticked by as Nadia read over the inscribed words one final time, then, with bated breath, recited it, hands cupped over the amulet and Wilson.  
  
    “Is it over?” Reagan whispered. Her voice wavered. As was, she couldn’t find the strength to do much more than whisper; the last few days had been straining – mentally and physically – and she found the full weight of what had transpired finally settling over her. Nadia met her gaze, her emerald eyes wide. The witch seemed at a loss for words, mirroring Reagan’s own feelings. It was funny how time seemed to stand still in moments like these, making the adventurer hyperaware of her surroundings, of the dryness of her throat and the thick, musty air of the archives. Then it passed, and Nadia was urging her up to her feet.  
  
    “I don’t know if it worked,” Nadia said, her words rushing out in a jumbled mess, “but this isn’t the place to wait it out. Someone could come back and find us at any second, and I’ve broken so many rules. It’s not just your skin they’ll want decorating their next lamp.”  
  
    Reagan blinked. “Wait, you guys make decorations out of human skin?”  
  
    “It was a joke,” Nadia replied. “But that’s beside the point. We need to go, and now.” She tucked the amulet into her tunic pocket, took Reagan by the hand, and they bolted.  
  
    “Do you even know how to get out of here? I don’t have my car—” Reagan began once they were outside of the temple.  
  
    “Forget your car! We’ve got magic,” she laughed, and then they were gone.  
  
  
  
They reappeared in the forest, miles away from danger. Reagan wretched, gagging against the feeling of vertigo tugging her to the ground. In an instant, Nadia was there, soothing her with gentle words and a hand against the small of her back. “’S okay,” she coughed out. “I’m fine. Now, uh, where are we?”  
  
    “I don’t know,” Nadia confessed, “something like a few miles away from the temple. Just far enough away that they shouldn’t be able to track us down. If you give me a more specific location I can take us there.”  
  
    Reagan coughed, sitting back on her haunches. “Yeah, how about we tackle that problem in a few minutes? Just so I can get my bearings.”  
  
    “Of course.” Nadia smiled.  
  
    “I’ve got an apartment a few hours away – it’s in Santiga. Pretty safe area, if I do say so myself. We can, uh, head there. There’s room for you if you want to stay for a while,” she added, glancing at Nadia to gauge her expression. If Reagan was being honest with herself, she wanted the witch to stick around for a while. It had been a long time since she’d had a good friend – and, well, her standards weren’t too high at the moment, so she’d let the earlier death threats slide.  
  
    “That’d be nice,” Nadia said. “You ready to go?”  
  
    Reagan scowled, but nodded. “No time like the present,” she muttered, and they’d vanished again.  
  
  
  
She would never really adjust to the feeling of disappearing and rematerializing, let alone doing so three times in one day. “That was excessive,” Reagan sighed, sinking into the worn out couch in the center of her apartment living room. “I hate that whole… magic travelling thing. It’s not fun. Too rough on the tummy and all.”  
  
    Nadia sat down beside her, taking an awkward perch on the edge of the couch.  
  
    “C’mon,” she laughed, “this is your home now. No need to be so… stiff. Relax! I need to go shower and unpack from the trip, but make yourself at home. You can watch a movie or something, I dunno. Just… yeah, knock yourself out.”  
  
    When she returned a half hour later, Nadia was sprawled out across the sofa, raptly watching a horror movie. It made Reagan grin, seeing her adjusting so well. “Y’know,” she started, sitting down beside her and tying her wet hair back, “I think we did pretty well today. We saved the damsel in distress—” Wilson chirped beside her. “—and we got off scot-free. I think we make a good team.” She smiled, happy when the gesture was returned and Wilson burrowed into her lap.  
  
    “Yeah. This was good.”  
  
    “And all that’s left to do is wait, I guess.”  
  
  
  
The next few days passed without incident, the counter-curse having worked just fine – and then months passed by, too. Reagan and Nadia bonded at a rapid pace. And even then, with Wilson safe and sound, with the coven far away and off their backs, they still talked about that fateful day.  
  
    “I was scared of you,” Nadia confessed one evening. Reagan made an inquisitive noise, too comfortable from her spot buried against her side to be bothered to put effort into the question. “Yeah, I really was.” She stroked a hand along Wilson’s back, snuggling closer to her roommate. They always sat like this on their customary movie nights, cuddled under a fuzzy blanket. It at least lent Reagan some measure of comfort when Nadia inevitable selected a scary film. “I’d never had to really… curse someone before. Most people kept their distance, and to see you come back, even after that – and then to threaten me!” She laughed, though Reagan couldn’t tell if she was genuinely amused.  
  
    “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”  
  
    “I deserved it,” Nadia replied. “It almost made me feel better, you coming back. I felt really guilty.”  
  
    Reagan gazed up at her, angling her head awkwardly to make eye contact. “You didn’t seem all that guilty,” she prompted.  
  
    “Well, I didn’t know how to respond.” Her tone was lazy, which satisfied Reagan. She’d been so afraid of a defensive answer – and really, she wasn’t accusing Nadia of anything. “The whole time we’re trained in the coven, it’s about being tough and… you know, secretive. It’s a tight-knit group. Not like I was really into that – well, I wouldn’t be here if I was, would I? – but it’s second nature.” The witch shrugged. “When you grow up in a place like that, learning that the outside is dangerous and that what we do is the right way, you get into the habit. Even if you don’t necessarily agree with it. I just… didn’t know better.”  
  
    “But you do now,” Reagan said. It could have been a question, but she sounded so certain that Nadia couldn’t contradict her if she wanted. “And you’re not there anymore. It’s all good now. You’ve got me, and Wilson—”  
  
    “Oh, yeah. Again, I shouldn’t have called him pathetic.”  
  
    “—and it’s all good. The past is the past and all that jazz.” The words elicited a subtle nod from Nadia. Reagan couldn’t see it, but she felt the movement against her. “Besides, we’ve got a lot ahead of us. I mean, you’ve got a half-decent wardrobe now—”  
  
    Nadia scoffed, interjecting, “I thought you liked the way I dressed?”  
  
    “—and I’m gonna be legit in just a couple of months,” she continued, unfazed, “so there’s a lot to look forward to. And you can probably land a solid job if you ever want to leave the library, considering all of your magic skills. You’re, uh, uniquely qualified and all. Or we could start some sort of world-changing organization, right? Tell you what, we bake a few cookies, get a few recruits, and bang! Before you know it, everything is great. We could reintroduce the coven and their families to the general populace, use their skills to benefit everyone. It’d be awesome!”  
  
    “Really?” Nadia laughed, and Reagan could feel the vibrations against her back. “I don’t think that baking cookies is going to change the world. That probably won’t work. But yeah. I think that one day, we could do great things.”  
  
    “One day,” Reagan sighed, and they continued watching their movie in silence, Wilson snuggled in tight between them.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, yeah, couldn't think of a good title - but that's beside the point. This is my Secret Santa gift for and-speak on deviantart, who gave me this prompt: 
> 
> "Character(s): a strong-willed girl, some sort of animal as her companion  
> Theme: patience, waiting, reflection, and forgiveness  
> Anything that you would like to add?: be creative, narrate through prose, poem, etc, anything you think would best tell the story <3 and don't be scared of taking creative risks!"
> 
> I'm not sure if I made all of this fit, but I'll admit that the prompt through me for a loop and really challenged me. It's pretty out there. It's not perfect, the story isn't exactly anything groundbreaking, but I really enjoyed working on this and changing things up. Reagan is actually a character I designed a long time ago and never did anything with, you know, so it was nice to finally give her a story. And also to include a mongoose. I very much like mongooses. They're pretty badass, you know. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (cross-posted from my deviantart account)


End file.
